I'll Meet You After Life
by Dakota-Jones
Summary: Julia has a totally normal life- until a lawyer shows up at her door, giving her parents the belongings of a brother she didn't know she had. Now, even though no one is willing to help, she's determined to find out how he died...no matter what it takes...
1. I had a BROTHER!

AN: My first Thirteen Ghosts story! I usually hate movies like this…but this one just grabbed onto my mind and wouldn't let go. I fell in love with it. And so, of course, I came up with a fic idea.

Summary: 17 year old honor student Julia Thurston didn't have a care in the world- until she found out that her parents did. Until she found out that her parents had gone so far as to change their names to keep her older brother a secret from her. But now that he's dead, Julia will stop at nothing to find out what killed him; but it won't be easy…

            "Julia! Dinner's ready!"

            I flopped over on my back, finishing up the last sentence in the paragraph I was reading before I shut my book and tossed it aside. I was still wondering who killed Mrs. Sylvia as I headed downstairs, pulling my hair back as I walked into the kitchen.

            "How was your day at school, honey?" My dad asked, kissing me on the top of the head as he went to hang up his rain-soaked jacket.

            "I got an A on the chemistry test," I said, and he grinned.

            "That's my little genius."

            "I'm not a genius, Daddy."

            "Okay. My little _prodigy_."

            "Sit down you two," Mom said, pouring chocolate milk for me. We sat down and said a quick prayer, thanking God for everything except the toilet and the burnt casserole.

            "The book we're reading in English is really cool. It's about a psychic who has to save her family from the ghost of a serial killer," I said, and the air at the table seemed to freeze.

            "Sounds very interesting," Mom said quietly, forcing a weak smile in my father's direction.

            "But you know that there is no such thing as a ghost. Or a psychic, for that matter," Dad said.

            I laughed. "Dad, if psychics were real, Miss Cleo would have won the lottery by now."

            They both laughed at that one, and dinner continued on as usual. That is, until the doorbell rang.

            "I'll get it. It's probably Ashley," I said, pushing back from the table and running to the front door to greet my friend.

            But it wasn't my friend at the door. Instead, I found a man in a grey suit, slightly overweight and holding his briefcase over his head and a small box under his other arm. I opened the door, gesturing for him to step in out of the rain.

            "May I help you?" I asked as he shook the excess water off his briefcase.

            "I'm Thomas Johnson, from Johnson and Tanner law offices," he said, reaching out to shake my hand. "I'm here on behalf of a Dennis Rafkin."

            "Dennis Rafkin?" I asked, weakly shaking his hand.

            He looked around, flustered. "I am at the right house, aren't I?" he asked, and then he opened his briefcase a crack and pulled out a couple of papers. "Dennis Rafkin. Son of Andrew and Beverly Rafkin, who live at 313 West Rennard Lane, and have since changed their last name to Thurston."

            "No…no, that can't be right. I don't have a brother."

            "But this _is _the right house, isn't it?"

            I eyed him carefully, stepping back a few steps. This had to be some kind of a joke. "Mom? Dad?" I called, and I waited a few excruciatingly uncomfortable moments for them to come to the front hall.

            "Yes, how may I help you?" My dad asked the man, laying his arm across my shoulders.

            "Mr. Rafkin…well…Mr.Thurston…your son died three nights ago in a horrible accident," the man said, pity evident in his voice.

            There was dead silence in the hallway for at least ten seconds. Then I stepped away from my dad, looking at the expressions on my parents' faces.

            My dad looked stunned, and my mother already had tears in her eyes.

            This was serious.

            "Why didn't you ever tell me?" I forced out between gritted teeth. Dad just ignored me and spoke once again to the lawyer.

            "What happened?"

            The lawyer shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. All it said on the report was that he was killed in a freak accident. But…I have a few of his belongings here for you."

            He held out the box to my dad, and then handed my mother a business card.

            "If you have any more questions, call me," he said, and without another word, he left. My dad turned, practically in slow motion, and went into the living room and set the box down on the coffee table.

            "So it's true? I have a brother, and you never told me?" I asked as my mother sobbed.

            "It's true, Julia. It's all true," my dad said, and I sat down on the couch across from him.

            "Why?"

            Dad pulled the lid off the small box, sighing heavily as he looked at the contents. He pulled out an old photo, so battered that it was barely intact- it was a picture of me and Mom and Dad, when I was about five.

            "He was eight years older than you," Dad said, lifting a few books out of the box as Mom sat down beside him. "He left home when you were only five."

            "Left home?" my mother snapped. "You mean you kicked him out!"

            "I had no choice! That boy was going to be the death of you!"

            I was barely breathing. I'd never seen my parents act like this before. "What are you talking about?" I asked desperately.

            Dad dropped his gaze to the floor. "Your brother was…different, Julia."

            My mother shook her head. "He was psychic."

            I looked at my mother in stunned silence, and my dad said, "She doesn't _need_ to know all this shit!"

            "She has a right to know!"

            "He's dead, Beverly. You're only making things worse."

            "Both of you, just shut up!" I yelled. I took a deep breath, and then I leaned forward and pulled the box to my side of the table. As they sat silent I looked inside, pulling out a wallet and an odd looking pair of glasses. I set the glasses aside, opening up the wallet and pulling out the driver's license.

            Dennis looked just like my father, only his eyes were a different color and he was quite a bit taller.

            He'd only been twenty five when he died.

            Stuffed in the wallet, along with a couple dollar bills, was a paycheck for four thousand dollars signed by a Cyrus Kriticos.

            "You weren't ever going to tell me, were you?" I asked them, looking up from these simple objects that I suddenly had a very deep connection with.

            My mom shook her head. "It would have only caused you pain, darling. We loved him, but…"

            "He just wasn't fitting in here. If you knew him, you would understand," Dad finished.

            "But I _didn't _know him! And I _don't _understand!"

            I looked back down at the driver's license, surprised to find that my own brother had lived in the same city as me all along- in an apartment in the downtown slums.

            "This discussion is over," my dad suddenly snapped, grabbing the wallet out of my hand and throwing it violently in to the box. He grabbed the box, shoving it into my mother's arms. "We can't expect you to understand. We'll discuss this tomorrow."

            "Don't you have funeral arrangements to make?" I snapped right back at him. He hesitated, but only for a moment.

            "I do not consider that _freak_ my son."

            He stormed out, and my mother followed right on his heels dropping the lawyer's business card as she pleaded Dad to talk this over, but he ignored her. I looked back down in my hands; I was still holding Dennis's driver's license, and those funky glasses were still on the table where I'd set them aside.

            That was all I would need.

            Before I even knew what I was doing, I was by the front door grabbing my purse, car keys, and my jacket, stuffing Dennis's license and the glasses into my jacket pockets. I picked up the business card from the floor where my mother had dropped it, and then I headed out the door.

            With or without my parents' help, I was going to find out what happened to my brother. I owed him that much.

AN: Alright, people…what do you think?

Please review!


	2. Friendly Neighbors?

Shoutouts!

Mystery science seed: I certainly hope it becomes a whole lot more interesting, because I have a lot of things in mind for it…

Catiepie182002: Aw…thanks for feeding my ego. I didn't see it on the sci-fi channel, but I have the DVD, so it's all good! And yeah…this category needs more activity, and new plot lines. Let's start the movement! And I'm surprised that _I_ don't hate my main character!

Magdalena Iris Roth: I hope I can keep up the suspense, but I don't think that'll be a problem with this one. It's gonna be FUN.

LoKi-Shiver: I want to see what happens too…half the time I don't know what's going to happen until my hands have already typed it…Oo

TheAngryPrincess13: She MIGHT visit the house…hehe…and yes, the Juggernaut did kill Dennis, aided by the Hammer. Ghosts like that working together? You'd think they wouldn't get along…maybe…

Fists1: My first reviewer! hands you a cookie Don't worry, I'll keep updating. I'm loving this story!

Now, on to the story. Thank you to all my reviewers!

He couldn't have been psychic. That stuff was only in works of fiction, along with werewolves, monsters, and ghosts.

            Maybe he was epileptic or something. Maybe that's why he was so hard to live with. Whatever it was, I had to find out, and I may as well start at where he spent all of his time. At his home.

            It only took me fifteen minutes to get to the address on his driver's license, and I shuddered. The streets were dirty and there was a drunk leaning against the door, and half the streetlights were out. I pulled into an empty parking space and stepped out of the car, pulling my jacket tighter around my body.

            I couldn't imagine living here. My parents were basically filthy rich…and they sent him away with nothing. He ended up living in the slums when a month of my dad's salary could've had him living in a penthouse.

            I looked at the listing of the apartments, and I found the last name "Rafkin" on apartment 4B.

            _You would've been Julia Rafkin…not Julia Thurston._

            Personally, I liked Rafkin better than Thurston.

            I knew that if I buzzed straight to his apartment, no one would answer. Instead, I buzzed to the apartment next to his, apartment 3B.

            "Hello? Who's there?" I heard a lady's voice say through the intercom, sounding strained and stressed.

            "Hi, um…my name is Julia Thur…Rafkin. I need your help."

            A pause. "Did you say Rafkin?"

            "Yes. Julia Rafkin."

            A male's voice was suddenly on the intercom. "You related to that weirdo next door?"

            I had to take a deep breath to keep my temper in check. "That _weirdo _was my brother. And he's _dead_ now."

            There was a long pause. Then the female said, "Come on up."

            The buzzing sound started and I pushed through the door, rushing to the elevator and punching in the second floor. The door at 3B opened right as I got to it, and a hassled looking middle aged brunette woman ushered me in. A man sat in a chair by the window, watching the rain and smoking a cigarette.

            The lady smiled. "Would you like something to drink? Some orange juice, coffee-"

            "Or maybe some fresh blood?" The man interrupted.

            "Harold! The poor girl lost her brother-"

            "And that's a damn shame, but that boy was a freak."

            The woman shook her head, gesturing for me to sit down. I did so, and she sat down beside me.

            "What is it you want to know?" she asked.

            "Anything. Anything at all," I begged, and her eyes widened.

            "Well, we didn't know him _that _well…he was very, very sick…"

            "What do you mean, sick?"

            The husband snorted. "He always had migraines. He was addicted to painkillers. He would drink until he passed out five nights out of every week. And he never could keep a job before this latest one."

            The wife nodded as he spoke, and then added, "And twice he's collapsed in the hallway or on the way up the stairs. I was just trying to help him carry his groceries, and he went into a seizure and started screaming at me. It was very, very odd."

            This was a new twist. So he _did _have some kind of a sickness…but there was no way of knowing what it was just from this.

            "Is there…is there any way I can get into his apartment?"

            "They had it stripped yesterday," the husband said.

            "I know, but…I just want to see where he lived. I want to know him a little better."

            The woman smiled weakly. "He left an extra key on top of the door frame. He was always losing his keys or forgetting them, from what I saw."

            "Thank you so much," I said, standing up and going to the door.

            "Julia," the lady said, getting up and opening the door for me, "I'm very sorry. He was…strange…but he seemed like a nice young man."

             I stepped out and she closed the door behind me. I walked just a little ways down the hallway, coming to the door with the crooked label 4B.

            I jumped up and felt the top of the doorframe, knocking the key down from where it lay hidden. I picked it up and unlocked the door, cringing at the loud creak that it created when it swung open. Somehow, I felt that I should be quiet, even though no one was here.

            The couple had been right. The apartment was stripped bare, save for a few pieces of furniture, but it was very dirty. I walked inside and let the door swing shut behind me, sighing as I looked around the desolate home.

            "Dennis…give me _something_…anything," I whispered to the room, jumping when lightening lit up the blank walls. Or, mostly blank.

            The landlord obviously was leaving the place to be cleaned by the next tenants, because a part of one wall was still covered in papers taped to the wall. I fumbled on the wall for a light switch, finally finding it and flipping on the bright light in the middle of the room.

            I walked to the wall and inspected the papers closer. Most of them were newspaper articles about fatalities; the death of a young drag racer, the murder of a teenage girl on her prom night, the suicide of a young woman, a fire that claimed the life of a mother…other papers were hand-written maps, one of a school, another of a junkyard…it was just a very odd assortment of papers, maps, and articles.

            "Well…he won't be needing them now..." I muttered to myself, gently beginning to remove the papers from the wall. They would've been thrown away anyway; I may as well keep them myself.

            Among the papers was a post-it note that simply said "Cyrus Kriticos, 8pm Monday". It looked old. I remembered that Cyrus Kriticos was the same man who made out the paycheck to Dennis. I filed that name away in my memory, repeating the spelling over and over to make sure I didn't forget.

            Then I noticed something odd…the mother who died in the fire in the article that he had up…her name was Jean Kriticos. Dennis was obviously close to the Kriticos family; if I found them, I might find the answers I wanted.

            But where would I find them? And how?

            "What are you doing in here?"

            I turned around and found myself staring own the barrel of a gun. I looked past the gun to the person holding it; a middle aged man wearing a rumpled suit, the tie hanging around his neck untied.

            "I…I'm Julia Thurston…I'm Dennis's sister…" I stuttered, and he lowered the gun.

            "He had a sister?"

            I shrugged. "Yeah. I just…never knew him that well." Well, if that wasn't the understatement of the year.

            "I'm sorry about your loss," the man said. "But you need to leave."

            "Why?"

            He laughed. "Why do you think I have a gun? Druggies sneak in through the windows of empty apartments to shoot up. You shouldn't be in this area of town at all."

            "Did you know Dennis?"

            He raised an eyebrow as I completely ignored his warning to get out.

            "No one knew him that well. He pretty much kept to himself. All I know is that a few months ago he started leaving at noon and wouldn't be back until five or six the next morning.  The last time I saw the kid was maybe a couple weeks ago; he came in, filled a duffel bag with stuff, and he left. Never came back either."

            "Did he have any friends? Anyone that I could talk to?"

            He thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "I'm sorry, kid. If I could help you, I would. But he…he just didn't seem to care much for the company of others."

            I bit my lip; it was worth a try. "Did you know a Cyrus Kriticos?"

            "Yeah, he's that adventurer guy."

            "Where can I find him?"

            The man laughed, obviously thinking that I was kidding. Then, he looked at me closer, and the smile dropped off his face.

            "He died the same day that your brother did. Didn't you know?"

            I groaned. All my lines to Dennis were being cut. Nobody knew him, and the people that did spend time with him were dead.

            "Thank you," I said to the man, sifting through the papers in my hand to find the article about Jean Kriticos. The man at first seemed reluctant to leave, but he eventually shrugged and walked out.

            I found the article, reading down through the whole thing, and eventually coming upon the name of the woman's husband.

            Arthur Kriticos. If he wasn't dead as well, he just might be the person to help me.

Next chapter, Julia meets Arthur…and let's just say he isn't really interested in reliving the glass house experience…but might someone else be?


	3. Thank God For The Nanny

Chapter 3

Shoutouts!

TheAngryPrincess13: Yes, Dennis does rock. He rocks my toe socks off. And is it just me, or does the Torn Prince look a whole lot like James Dean? ponders

Catiepie182002: I enjoy recognition too…I love it when people do shout-outs, so I adhere to the golden rule. And yeah…I leave for Europe on Tuesday, and I won't be back for three weeks, and I have no idea how long this fic is going to take me to write, so I'm writing frantically here. I hope I'm done before I leave, cause I would just feel awful if I left you guys hanging…

Magdalena Iris Roth: Yesh…everyone forgets Maggie…except for me. cackles evilly And did you notice that she was EXTREMELY touchy-feely with him even after he'd told her not to touch him? Like, tugging on his jacket and everything…I find that hilarious. And I wonder what he saw when she ran into him…if he saw any of her life…that would make a good fic…eh. I'm shutting up now. Maggie has a part in this chapter, and probably chapters to come as well.

            Thanks for the support, guys!

            Also, I figured that the Kriticos family would've gotten a huge insurance claim on the glass house. I mean, they could've made up some story about a natural gas explosion and gotten a good size claim on it; I don't see why they wouldn't. So I'm assuming they've moved out of their ratty apartment into a decent middle class house. If you disagree, go ahead and yell at me…but hey, if a house that I inherited blew up, I would drag all the money out of the situation that I could, especially if I was dirt poor…

            I raced down the stairs, unwilling to wait for the overly-slow elevator. I jumped in my car, avoiding meeting the gaze of anyone that I passed on the street.

            But how was I going to find Arthur Kriticos? It was getting dark, and all I knew about this guy was his name, nothing else.

            I pulled out the article about the fire once again, this time looking at the address where the fire had been. It was in a suburb of the city, probably about fifteen minutes drive. It was worth a shot, anyway; even if they had moved after the fire, the neighbors might have known where they were going.

            The rain intensified as I drove out past the downtown area, the windshield fogging up as the air temperature dropped outside. Thunder rumbled in the distance as I slowly cruised down the street they lived on, finally finding the small, middle class home. It had been repaired and remodeled, almost unrecognizable from the picture of the burnt out shell in the article.

            I pulled in the short driveway and pulled my hood up, taking a deep breath and sprinting to the door as soon as the car door was shut. I rang the doorbell, relieved to see that there were lights on in the house.

            The door opened swiftly, and a young woman stood there, cradling a toddler on her hip.

            "Can I help you?" she asked breathlessly.

            "I wanted to know if you could help me find Arthur Kriticos."

            She nodded and stepped aside, and I stepped inside the well lit simple home. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air, and childrens' toys littered the floor.

            "I'm sorry about the mess, but my husband has been out of the state, and it's just so difficult to keep up the house with three kids," the woman said, smiling and setting the toddler in a playpen beside the couch.

            "No, it's okay. My room is much worse, I guarantee you," I said, and she laughed.

            "You said you wanted to find Mr. Kriticos, right?" she asked, and I nodded vigorously.

            "Yeah. Do you know where he moved after…"

            "The fire, yes…the poor man. He had a horrible breakdown after that happened; his daughter practically sold the house to us by herself," she said, and then she started sifting through the pile of papers on the coffee table. "Just a yesterday he sent us a change of address to send our payments to…"

            She found the paper she was looking for and handed it to me. "We already have a copy of that in our filing cabinet. You can have this one."

            Thank God, the address wasn't far from where I was; maybe ten minutes.

            "Why do you want to find him? I mean, if you don't mind me asking…" she asked.

            "No, I don't mind. My brother…he died a few days ago, and I never really knew him that well, but I think Arthur Kriticos did."

            "Oh, I'm so sorry…good luck. Arthur really is a sweet guy, I don't see why he wouldn't help."

            I thanked her profusely and was back in my car in what seemed like a few seconds. I felt like a total idiot, leaving home and running all over the city looking for people who I didn't even know, but every step was leading me closer to Dennis.

As I sat down in the car something poked me in the side, and I pulled the weird glasses from Dennis's box out of my pocket. They really were odd glasses, and they made me kind of nervous for a reason that I couldn't quite pinpoint. I started to slip them on, but then I decided that I was wasting time and that I needed to get going; I didn't want to knock on Arthur's door at midnight. I threw the glasses in the passenger seat and backed out of the driveway.

I was right; their new house wasn't far at all from where they used to live. The house looked like a normal, middle class home. I saw someone look out the front window, and as I pushed open the gate the inside door opened.

"Yes?" The man said, not opening the screen door yet as he eyed me carefully.

"I'm looking for Arthur Kriticos," I said, and he hesitated.

"Who are you?"

Wow. I hadn't expected such a bitter response, especially not after the woman at the last house had bragged about him so much.

"I'm Julia Rafkin. I'm Dennis Rafkin's sister. I was hoping I could talk to you about him."

For a moment, I saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Deep, horrible anguish. But then he looked down at the floor.

"Sorry. I don't know anyone by that name."

"But your uncle-"

"_I said I didn't know him._"

I was at a loss. I didn't know what to say, because I _knew_ he was lying to me. I knew it. But there was nothing I could do about it if he didn't want to talk about it.

"Well…thanks for your time…"

I started to walk back to my car, and then another car pulled up behind mine; an old Dodge Neon that coughed and sputtered as it reluctantly turned off. A black woman stumbled out of the car, muttering to herself the whole time.

She almost ran into me, and then she looked hard at me and said, "God damn, you look familiar. What's your name, kid?"

"Um…Julia. Julia Thurston."

She shook her head. "I could've sworn…but nah, guess it couldn't be…"

I grabbed onto her sleeve before she could walk right on by. "But I used to be Julia Rafkin."

She stopped dead in her tracks. "Ain't you a little young to be married? And to a guy like _him_?"

"I was his _sister_."

Arthur cleared his throat from where he stood in the doorway. "She was just leaving, Maggie. Come on in. I've got your stuff right here."

"No, _wait!_" I yelled, and Maggie stopped and turned around once again. "Did you know Dennis?" I asked, practically begging.

"Yeah, I knew Dennis. Not all dat well, though," she said, her thick accent making her hard to understand. My heart leaped as I realized that she had known him.

"Maggie…" Arthur said, his own voice pleading.

"Aw, come on, Arthur. She was his sista, for goodness sake. Just talk to her."

"I don't _want _to talk about this. You know that."

"Look, I never even met him. Anything you guys can tell me would be worth everything to me," I said to them. I could tell Arthur was weakening; no matter how mean he tried to act, I could now tell that he was a softy.

"Fine. Come on in," he said quietly, opening the door wider. I thanked him and walked in the house, immediately struck by the smell of burnt cookies. Maggie followed me in after a quick, quiet argument with Arthur.

"I'll go get some drinks. Maggie…don't start this conversation until I get back," Arthur ordered as he walked out, and it made me wonder what he was trying to hide that he thought Maggie would tell me. I hung up my jacket on the coat rack, and then I sat next to Maggie on the couch. The room was filled with boxes, and the house didn't seem to have any homely touches; they must have just moved in recently.

"Is this a bad time? Should I come back later?" I asked in a whisper.

"Honey, with what you wanna talk about, _anytime _would be a bad time," Maggie said, gesturing wildly.

A young woman entered the room, her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and an apron tied around her waist. She extended her hand to me and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Kathy. Dad told me you're Dennis's sister," she said as we shook hands. She seemed to be nervous, although I had no clue what she would be nervous about.

"Yeah…how well did you know him?" I asked her.

"Not well. Dad knew him better than any of us."

"Kathy," Arthur warned from the kitchen, and she rolled her eyes and walked back into the kitchen. Arthur walked back in with two lemonades, and he set one down in front of me and Maggie grabbed the other one from his hand, downing half the glass in one swallow.

"What exactly did you want to know?" Arthur asked, his eyes not once meeting mine.

"Well…how did you guys know Dennis?"

Arthur looked at Maggie, and Maggie shrugged. "It's a long, long story," Maggie said, shaking her head.

"I have all the time in the world to listen if you don't mind telling me. _Please…_I didn't even know I had a brother until a couple of hours ago," I said, and Maggie exhaled in amazement.

"You work fast, girl. You already found Arthur? How'd you manage that?"

"Well…Dennis evidently worked for Arthur's uncle…and Dennis had an article about the fire on his apartment wall," I explained, hoping I wasn't bringing up a topic that was still terribly sensitive to this family.

Arthur's expression darkened, and for the first time Maggie didn't seem to have anything to say.

"Did you know him because of your uncle?" I asked Arthur.

"Yes…when Cyrus faked his death the first time…we met Dennis during some of the…legalities," Arthur said, seeming to force every word out of his mouth. "Cyrus owed Dennis a lot of money for his services."

"What did Dennis do for him?"

Once again, they fell silent. Then, Maggie just exploded.

"Come on, Arthur, tell the girl the truth!"

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glaring at Maggie. "I don't think she'd believe us. And even if she did, I don't think she'd want to know."

"Want to know _what_?" I said forcefully.

Maggie sighed in frustration. "Your brother was a psychic guy who help Cyrus cage up ghosts."

I practically choked on my lemonade. "He _what_?"

"See? I told you," Arthur said, throwing his hands up in frustration. "We're only going to cause her more trouble by throwing all of this at her. She needs to leave."

"No!" I yelled, beginning to get angry. "Just…start from the beginning. I swear, I'll believe every word if you just _tell me slow_," I said. _I'd believe anything by now._

"Maggie. Come here. Now," Arthur ordered, dragging her aside. They had a short, heated conversation, and finally Maggie left, storming out the front door, almost forgetting the possessions she'd come for. Arthur ran his hand through his hair, sitting down across from me.

He finally looked up at me, looking defeated, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"Alright. Let's start at the beginning."

Ahaha…I'm not sure if I want to detail their conversation or not…so give me some input. Cause if you guys want me to detail it, I'll do that, but if you want me to just summarize, that'll work too. It's all good.

I love reviews! Cookies to all my past, present, and future reviewers!   


	4. More Dead Ends

Shoutouts!

Fists1: Aw…I'm glad I could brighten your day…and don't worry, I'm hoping to find a way to work interactions with the ghosts into the story, but they left the house and all…but I have my ideas…

Magdalena Iris Roth: Hmm…explain to me why Dennis is the 13th ghost. I'm not quite sure I understand that fully. Excuse my ignorance…I just never thought of it that way.

Come on, people…I need more reviews…but thank you to my two reviewers! Cookies to both of you!

            I listened to the whole story. Everything about my brother's powers, the glass house, the trapped ghosts…it should have been so hard for me to believe. But something about Arthur told me that he couldn't possibly be lying. He had these emotions behind the story, these moments of anguish and absolute terror, so that eventually it seemed that he didn't really remember who he was talking to…he was just getting the story out, finally telling someone who actually believed him.

            Dennis had died saving this man and his family. He'd sacrificed himself so that Arthur could save his children, even after helping to catch all of the ghosts.

            Arthur didn't describe to me exactly how Dennis died. I could tell that he didn't want to remember; I could tell that being right there and not being able to stop it had taken a great toll on Arthur. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to hear how those creatures killed my brother.

            "He was like a little kid…he just looked so helpless…and there was nothing I could do about it," Arthur reiterated after finishing the whole story. He almost seemed like he was trying to convince himself that there was nothing he could have done. "I shouldn't have been so hard on him; it wasn't his fault, none of it was…"

            I couldn't hold back anymore. I started crying quietly, wishing above anything that I could've been there for Dennis when he died, that I could've hugged my big brother, had the normal sibling rivalries that other kids had…but no. All because my parents thought he was a freak, I would never know him.

            Arthur slid a box of tissues over to me, and I tried to stop crying, as hard as it might be.

            "Where is the house?" I asked quietly, wiping the tears off my cheeks. Arthur's head shot up and he looked me in the eye for once.

            "No. You can't go out there. No way."

            "All the ghosts are gone, right? You said you thought they left," I said.

            "That place is…it's evil. And there's no way to be certain that they're gone. And you wouldn't be able to see them even if they were there."

            "Why wouldn't I be able to see them?"

            Arthur sighed. "When we were at the house, Dennis and Kalina gave us glasses that allowed us to see the ghosts. Without them, we never would have been able to see them."

            I suddenly remembered the weird glasses that were sitting in the passenger's seat of my car, and inside I was overjoyed. "Oh…I guess it wouldn't do much good to go, then…" I said, hiding my excitement from Arthur. I knew he wouldn't help me find the house, and his daughter probably wouldn't either. But maybe Maggie…but Arthur probably wouldn't tell me how to find her, either.

            Another dead end.

            Kathy came in with a plate of cookies, setting them down on the coffee table and putting a comforting hand on her father's shoulder. He smiled weakly, looking up at her with a deep love in his eyes.

            "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you more about him. I just didn't get to know him under the best of circumstances," Arthur said, and I nodded.

            "That's why I want to go find him. He came back to help you. I think he would come back to the glass house one more time to see his little sister," I explained.

            Arthur shook his head. "You have no idea what kind of evil that place harbors. And like I said, _you wouldn't be able to see him. _  So there's really no point in going."

            I bit my lip. "Well…could I at least have Maggie's phone number so I can ask her about the time she spent with him?"

            Arthur eyed me carefully, and I gave him the best 'puppy eyes' that I could manage.

            "Fine," he said, jotting down the number on a sheet of loose paper on the table. He handed it to me and I thanked him.

            "Listen, thank you so much. You have no idea how much it means to me…to hear that he didn't die for no reason," I said as I stood up. Arthur nodded and walked me to the door, and I put my jacket back on and started to walk out.

            "Julia."

            I turned around, and Arthur was watching me with a small smile on his face, but at the same time his expression was lined with worry.

            "Don't go to that house. Please, _don't go_."

            I smiled. "I won't."

            I walked back to my car and sat down in it without starting it, instead pulling my cell phone out of my purse. I called the number that Arthur had given me, and after only a couple of rings Maggie picked up the phone.

            "Hello?"

            "Maggie? This is Julia Rafkin."

            "Oh, Dennis's sister, right…"

            "I…I want to know where the glass house was."

            A pause. "Arthur wouldn't tell you?"

            "No. That's why I called you."

            "Why would you wanna go back there? There's nothin' but rubble left."

            "And maybe my brother."

            Another pause, longer this time. "There's no way you could find it. It's out in the middle of nowhere. And none of us are gonna show you the way. Sorry, honey."

            I decided not to press the issue, saying a quick goodbye and then laying my head on the steering wheel.

            I had to find a way to get to that house. I had the glasses, now all I needed was to find him. But it was getting late, and I was exhausted.

            I couldn't go back home; my parents had already tried to call my cell phone eleven times, judging from my missed calls, and if they caught on to what I was doing, I would have no chance of getting out to that house.  

            So I would go to my home-away-from-home. Ashley would never turn me away at a time like this; she may not believe me about all this stuff, but she wouldn't think I was nuts, either. I'd known her since kindergarten.

            When I got to Ashley's house her parents were out to dinner and a cocktail party with friends, and so I sat down in the family room with her and explained everything to her- everything about Dennis and Arthur, the house, and the ghosts. I even showed her the glasses, but thought it wasn't a good idea for either of us to try them on quite yet. I started crying once again as I had to tell her how he died, but she seemed to be taking all of this in quite well.

            "Julia…I don't know what to say," she finally said after a long silence.

            "Just say that I can stay here for tonight. That's all I'm asking," I begged.

            "And tomorrow you're going out to that house?"

            "Yeah…I think the lawyer who told us about Dennis might tell me where the house was. I have his business card."

            "Well then, I'm coming with you."

            My mouth dropped open. "No way. I have no idea what's out there."

            "All the more reason for me to go with you. I mean, if that place exploded, it's probably pretty unstable. You'll need a helping hand to maneuver around that mess."

            "You don't have to do this…I mean, you can't just skip school."

            "It's not like my parents will care anyway. You call in for me, I'll call in for you. We deserve a day off after that chemistry test," she said. "Now…let's get some sleep so we'll be ready to go bright and early."

            I followed her advice simply because I knew I'd never be able to convince her otherwise. It took me a good hour and a half, but I finally managed to fall asleep…but I didn't manage to keep the tears from falling right up until I slipped into sleep.

Well….it's 3:30 in the morning…..and I need sleep. So please review for the poor, sleep deprived teenager…..and I didn't bother to spell check this chapter because I'm dead tired, so please don't kill me for any screw ups….

Next chapter, Julia and Ashley start their "adventure"…which gets a whole lot more dangerous than they could ever imagine…  


	5. Dread

Shoutouts!

Magdalena Iris Roth: Okay, I think I understand now. Thank you for clearing that up. And let me tell you…this chapter will be fun…and you'll hate me at the end…bwahahaha!

TheAngryPrincess13: Yeah, the Torn Prince is hot in one aspect, but then you see the ugly side of him…bwahaha, that was really bad. But yeah…I think he looks way too much like James Dean. Creepy. And I love that quote!

LoKi-Shiver: Yeah…they didn't explain the plot too well, but that leaves room for the imagination, right? So it's a good thing for us writers.

Cookies to all of you. Cookies with icing on them in the shape of you favorite ghost. Or something like that. Here we go!

The alarm clock went off at 6 am, just like we planned. We wanted to get out of the house before her parents woke up and be at the lawyer's office when it opened at seven. We would have called, but it would be a whole lot easier to go and pick up a map if he had one. Hopeful thinking, I guess.

We decided to take my car since it got better gas mileage and we had no idea how far we'd be going. She left a note telling her parents that I'd given her a ride to track practice before school, and then we left for downtown.

Once again, I'd missed quite a few calls from my parents on my cell phone. I briefly considered calling them, but then I decided to wait until after I'd seen the glass house. I didn't want them to know what I was up to.

We pulled into a parking space and set it on the maximum; it probably wouldn't take more than an hour to do this, but there was no way of really knowing. We got bad looks as we entered the offices, and I walked to the information desk and found out that Thomas Johnson's office was on the sixth floor.

Once there, the secretary immediately approached us, asking what she could help us with.

"We're doing a school project on the influence of attorneys on the outcome of property disputes and major losses. We were wondering if we could speak to Mr. Johnson about it," Ashley said, sounding completely honest. The lady opened up her appointment book, clicking her tongue as she studied the page.

"Well…he has a board meeting in ten minutes, but if you really want to talk to him, you can just jump in right now and make it fast."

I nodded vigorously. "That'll be fine. Thank you so much."

She smiled and led us through to his office, knocking loudly on the large oak door.

"Mr. Thompson? I have a couple of students here who want to ask you a few questions…"

A pause. "Send them on in."

She opened the door for us and then closed it quickly behind us. This man's office was a whole lot like my father's; expensive decorations, impeccably clean, and books everywhere.

"Wait…aren't you the Thurston girl?" he asked immediately upon looking up from his papers.

"Yes. I had a few questions about my brother," I said, and he smiled weakly.

"Well, I'll tell you what I can."

"What's the location of the house in which he died?"

He hesitated, the blood draining from his face. "How did you find out about how he died?"

"I have connections. And I want to know where that house is."

He was beginning to look nervous now. "Look, there's an order that no one is to go on that property. It's under investigation."

Okay…I'd been denied information far too many times now, and it was beginning to make me mad. "I know it's dangerous. But I just want to see where my brother spent his final hours. I'm going to find that place, with or without your help, so you may as well _just tell me!_" I yelled, slamming my fists down on his desk.

He sat stunned for a moment, obviously shocked by my sudden outburst. Then he swallowed hard and opened up a drawer in his desk, pulling out a folded sheet of paper.

"If anyone asks…you did _not_ get this information from me," he said as I unfolded it. The paper was the police report of what they thought happened at the house, and directions to the house.

"Thank you. I won't tell a soul," I said. I walked to the door, Ashley right on my heels.

"Julia," Mr. Johnson said, his voice weaker than before. "Be careful. That place is not safe. I'm trusting you to use common sense here and know where the limits are."

I smiled confidently. "Don't worry about us. We'll be fine."

With that, we filled up on gas and began the two hour drive to the glass house.

            It was just our luck to get a flat tire when we thought we'd prepared for everything. I jerked the car over to the side of the road, spitting out a few curse words that my parents probably didn't even realize I knew.

            "What now?" Ashley asked, just as frustrated as I was.

            "Well…we call a wrecker, and go get the car fixed. Then we keep going."

            "That could take all day!"

            I took a deep breath. "I don't want to wait anymore. 17 years of not knowing was enough. I want to do this as fast as I can."

            "You shouldn't be _too _impatient…"

            "I know, but I'm going to go insane if I don't get out there."

            "You're already insane."

            "That's beside the point."

            I called a wrecker on my cell phone, and when he arrived I used credit card to pay him. I knew that my parents would be told of these out-of-town transactions, but I didn't care at this point.

            He towed the car to the nearest body shop, and I used credit card to pay there too. My dad was going to kill me when I got back; I was only supposed to use the credit card in emergencies, not when I was playing hookie from school and preparing to confront ghosts. We also took the opportunity to call in sick to the school for each other.

            It took all day to get towed, get service at the shop, eat and get back on the road. We still had an hour and a half to go before we reached the house, and that was if we didn't run in to any traffic.

            It was a long, boring drive. Nothing but trees, more trees, and the occasional rabbit. We passed through a small town called Willow Grove, but other than that it was a straight shot right up the Parkway.

            Soon we found the turnoff to take; it was overgrown, nothing more than a dirt road. A wooden roadblock stood in our way, but I easily drove around it on the edge of the road. And that's when I began to get nervous.

            I hadn't _really _thought about it up until then. Those violent ghosts may have never left. And unlike Arthur, if they didn't leave, there were no 'magic walls' to protect us. But why would a ghost stick around a place like that?

            _You have to believe Dennis would, _I thought. _Otherwise this whole trip is a futile effort._

It was starting to get dark already; I really didn't want to walk into this at night, but we were too far our in the middle of nowhere to turn back now. I shot a reassuring smile at Ashley, even though I was the one who probably needed the most reassuring.

            I swear, we drove on that road for fifteen minutes before we finally reached the clearing. Immediately an imminent feeling of dread and horror washed over me, and I barely resisted the urge to turn the car around and drive away at top speed.

            Ashley definitely felt the same way.

            "Julia, we need to leave. Now. Let's just go," she begged, her knuckles white as she gripped her purse close to her chest.

            "Ashley…I have to do this. You…just stay in the car. I'll just go check it out, really fast," I said in a whisper. I wasn't quite sure why I felt I had to whisper; it was almost as if someone was listening.

            "No. I'm not letting you go out there alone," she said, and that's when the ruins of the building came into full view in the evening light.

            Twisted steel and broken glass covered the ground, and police tape that had been ripped down lay on the ground, fluttering in the light wind. A few panes of glass still stood upright, and the steel that remained upright cast ominous shadows all over the wreckage.

            "Are you sure? I have a really bad feeling about this," Ashley said.

            "Yes. I'm sure. Just stay in the car if you're too scared," I snapped, grabbing the flashlight and the glasses and throwing the car door open.

            I shivered as the cold night air enveloped me, but the cold feeling didn't only come from the temperature. There was definitely _something_ here…now I just had to figure out what it was.

            Ashley walked up beside me, and we stood motionless for a moment, staring at the wreckage that used to be a grand mansion. Then I slipped on the glasses.

            Nothing. No ghosts, from what I could see. We were safe for now.

            "Come on," I said, practically choking on my own words. I began to walk toward the house, stopping beside the "power truck" that Dennis had used to get here and fool the lawyer.

            "Hang on," I said to Ashley, opening the door of the truck and jumping in the driver's seat, and then I placed my hands on the steering wheel.

            An odd, warm feeling came over me. A wonderful safe feeling. Dennis had sat in this seat. His hands had been on this steering wheel, less than a week ago.

            I was so close to him; I could feel it.

            "Julia…there's something out there…"

            I broke out of my trance, the goosebumps returning to my skin as I looked out to where Ashley was staring. And I knew she couldn't see what I could see…because she was silent, and I was screaming in horror.

Bwahaha, cliffhanger! Don't worry, I'll update soon and kill the suspense. Or I'll just add more suspense. Guess you won't know until I update...

Wow. It's 3:30 in the morning again. I guess I should at least attempt to sleep…


	6. Don't leave me

No shoutouts for this chapter, sorry…too tired…thank you for all your reviews, and here's the last chapter as a reward for your devotion!!!!!!!

            Standing out in the grass by the house staring at us was a woman. I suppose she would have been quite pretty; but her ears and eyes were both dripping blood, and dried blood was all over her body. She held an old, tattered brown book in her arms, and her expression was one of extreme anger.

            I didn't get much of a chance to stare in horror. The truck suddenly jerked sideways, and I grabbed onto the steering wheel, holding on for dear life as it lurched completely over onto its side. I fell against the passenger side window and it shattered, and then I heard a strange and horrible shriek.

            I heard Ashley scream at me, and then the truck was hit once again and flipped onto its roof. My head slammed into the ceiling of the truck, and I scrambled for the busted-out side window. I crawled out and stumbled to my feet, holding back tears and sprinting away from the destroyed vehicle, my ears ringing and pain jolting through my limbs.

            I turned around and looked for Ashley, but she was nowhere in sight. I knew the truck hadn't flipped onto her; she had been on the other side of it. But where was she?

            I heard that strange, horrible cry again, and I suddenly saw what was causing it. A deformed looking person stepped through the mist, the remains of a straight jacket hanging off him and a crude metal cage fastened around his head. This must be the Jackal that Arthur described to me. An inhuman growl escaped the Jackal's lips as he caught sight of me, and then he began to run right at me.

            I decided that this would be a good time to run.

            I knew that he would catch me if I tried to get to the trees. They were much too far away. Instead I headed toward the remains of the house, where I could at least put some wreckage between myself and this monster.

            I reached the house and almost tripped and fell immediately- there was no way that I could run with all this scrap metal sticking up everywhere. I navigated my way through the remains, hearing the crunch of the ghost's feet right behind me. There was no way to move silently in this place, and the ghost seemed to be no exception. But he was a whole lot faster than me.

            Another thing I hadn't counted on? Falling through a gaping hole in the floor.

            I screamed as I fell, and every ounce of air was forced out of my lungs as I hit the floor. And when I looked up, I wished that I'd never run for the supposed 'safety' of the house.

            A rotting body lay in front of me. Rather, the front half of a rotting body. The other half lay on the other side of a pane of glass.

            I scrambled backwards, trying not to become physically ill and quickly turning my eyes elsewhere. Then, I heard the slam of the ghost's feet hitting the floor. He'd jumped down in here after me.

            I used a still-standing wall to pull myself to my feet and I took off running again; my life depended on it. I turned one corner, but it was a dead end. Instead, I found myself looking right at what was left of Kalina, still pinned…well, squashed…between two walls of glass.

            "Julia!"

            I looked up, and Ashley was standing on the level above me, holding out her hand to me. I grabbed onto her hand, rapelling myself up the glass wall just as the Jackal turned the corner. He tried to reach me, but by then I had both feet firmly planted on solid ground. He scowled and paced, watching us carefully, but he couldn't get out unless he found a stairway or something like that.

            "What's down there?" Ashley asked, and I realized that she couldn't see the ghost- she didn't have the glasses on. I took them off momentarily and handed them to her. She slipped them on and cried out in horror when she looked down at the very pissed off ghost.

            I took the glasses back from her, and as I put them on I saw yet another thing that made my heart leap. Standing behind her, baseball bat in hand, was the 'Torn Prince'.

            "Run!" I yelled, grabbing onto her sleeve and dragging her with me out of the wreckage and back into the grass. We didn't get very far at all before Ashley was struck with the bat in her back, flying forward in the grass onto her stomach. I grabbed the nearest small piece of steel that I could find, and I threw it at the Torn Prince.

            It didn't hit him hard, but he was mad just the same. His eyes immediately locked on me, and I drew in a sharp breath, waiting for a blow from his weapon.

            But then, the handle of a big flashlight was brought down upon his head, and he disappeared momentarily.

            Standing behind where he had been was Arthur Kriticos, wearing a pair of the 'ghost glasses'.

            "Arthur!" I yelled, practically leaping into his arms.

            "Come on. We've got to get back to the house," he said, not wasting any time with greetings or introductions. I agreed without question and we followed him back to the house at a jog, going back into the maze of glass and twisted steel.

            "No, not that way," Arthur said, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from a hallway that I had been headed toward. "That's where…"

            He didn't finish. He didn't need to. I knew from the expression on his face that that was the hallway where my brother's body was.

            "Why didn't the police remove the bodies?" I asked quietly, my voice shaking.

            "The police couldn't handle the constant attacks. They don't know what to do with this place, so they're just leaving it alone for now," Arthur explained, making sure Ashley wasn't injured and giving her a pair of the ghost glasses. "We have to leave. _Now._ We'll make a run for my car."

            I felt like arguing against this conclusion; I knew Dennis was here, I _knew it_, but I hadn't seen him yet. But then again, if we stayed, we would die. I bit my lip and reluctantly nodded.

            "Let's go."

            We took one look around and then left the relative safety of the house, running for Arthur's car. But then, we all stopped at the sight of a figure standing in the fog. As his features became clearer, I couldn't believe my eyes.

            It was Cyrus Kriticos. Come back as a ghost to haunt his life's work.

            We slowly started to back up as he pulled the cover of his cane off, revealing the blade underneath. And then, he lunged at me.

            _Wham!_

I opened my eyes and Cyrus was gone; in front of me on the grass lay a scooter, which Arthur quickly said was Bobby's that they'd left here at the house. And then, I looked up once again, shivering both with the now freezing cold air and with fear at what could have beaten off Cyrus.

            My brother stood in front of me, a smirk on his face from having scared off Cyrus Kriticos.

            "Dennis…" I started, unable to finish the sentence. He smiled and pulled off his suit jacket, gently laying it over my shoulders without touching me.

            "You're just as crazy as I am, Julia," he said affectionately.

            "I'm so sorry."

            "Don't be. You've done everything right."

            "But-"

            "Don't worry about me. I've been looking out for you ever since you started looking for me. And I'm always gonna be there for you. That's what big brothers are for," he said, his eyes sparkling with intensity. "Now you get out of here before any more ghosts decide they don't like having company."

            "But…I don't wanna leave you," I said desperately, tears finally coming to my eyes.

            "You aren't leaving me. I'll stay with you, I promise. I'll be there for you."

            I looked back toward the car and glanced at Arthur, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Can I…Can I at least touch you?"

            For the first time in the conversation he seemed to hesitate. Then I lifted my hand and reached toward him, and only a moment later he followed suit, and ever so slowly our hands touched.

            Nothing. Nothing except warmth. His curse wasn't in effect now, at least not between us. I jumped at him and wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his chest and holding on tight. One of his hands stroked my hair gently, and then after a few moments he pushed me away.

            "Go. Just walk to the car. You'll make it," he said, and I smiled. Arthur and Ashley led the way to the car, and Dennis held true to his word; both Cyrus and the Torn Prince attempted to attack us, but it was as if a tunnel of spell barriers had formed a path to the car. They couldn't break through to attack us. I got to the car and pulled the door open, looking back one more time…but Dennis was gone. And then I realized that I still had his suit jacket draped over my shoulders.

            I pulled the jacket tighter around my body, sitting down in the car and taking long deep breaths as Arthur drove us away from the house at a high rate of speed. Ashley, sitting in the front with Arthur, slowly turned around to look at me.

            "Julia…how much are you gonna pay the tow truck to tow your car out of there?"

            I couldn't help it…I started laughing, burrowing myself down deeper in the warmth of my brother's jacket.

That's it! The end! At least I got it finished before my Europe trip, so I didn't leave you guys hanging. Hope you enjoyed reading it! Give me final feedback so I know it was worth posting.

Hmm…I might think of another fic for this movie, since I enjoyed doing this one so much…but that depends on how many reviews I get for this one…  


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